


Best Laid Plans

by dionysus_bound



Category: Elenium/Tamuli Series - David & Leigh Eddings
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dionysus_bound/pseuds/dionysus_bound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after returning to Cimmura, Khalad thinks its time he goes looking for Krager. Berit's not going to let him go alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roga/gifts).



_Matherion_

_The decision to send Berit in Sparhawk's place while they tried to outmaneuver Cyrgon and Zalasta left little more for the group to discuss, at the moment. Sephrenia and the Anarae moved away to confer about combining their magics and the rest of the party disbanded to the far corners of the castle._

_Despite Sparhawk's insistence that everyone would fix their own mistakes, given time, Aphrael couldn't help worrying over her cobbled-together little family. Besides, checking up on them wasn't the same as interfering. She needed to be aware of any problems before they got in the way._

_Whistling an eons-old tune, she wandered from room to room looking in on each of her charges. Stoic Sparhawk and distraught Kalten, inconsolable Mirtai attended by a hovering Kring. Vanion, Sarabian, the Knights and warriors and sundry others who had gathered together to save the world._

_Finally, she sought out Talen. Aphrael always left him for last so she could linger and watch him, unseen, for what the rigid Elenes would consider an unseemly amount of time. The young thief had stolen her heart in way she had never experienced. He was endlessly fascinating to her._

_She found him sitting on a bale of hay in the stables, watching Khalad prepare the gear for the long journey ahead._

"Are you sure you want to do this, Khalad?" Talen asked. "It's really dangerous."

Khalad picked up another pack to check over. "Everything we've done since crossing into Daresia has been dangerous."

"Yeah, but I don't have to worry about you when we come up against serfs or soldiers. You could probably even hold your own against a troll. But there is a god out there who wants Sparhawk dead. And something that's apparently worse than a god willing to destroy the whole world to get Bhelliom."

Khalad set the pack into the pile of things he'd already checked and glared at his brother.

"So I should let Berit wander out to face that on his own?"

Talen opened his mouth to answer, then shut it with a snap, leaning closer to Khalad with an assessing look.

"No," he murmured thoughtfully. "I don't suppose you could let  _Berit_  go all alone into danger without you."

Khalad blinked and flexed his hands, turning the movement into a stretch to pick up the next piece of equipment needing to be checked. His sharp eyed brother probably wouldn't miss the tell-tale flinch but it was worth a try.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, feigned disinterest flattening his tone.

Talen leaned back against the wall again, eyes glittering with self-satisfaction.

"I followed you and Sparhawk, you know. When you went to shoot Incetes full of crossbow bolts."

"Why? Did you want to learn how to shoot?" Khalad asked, not sure where Talen was going, but hoping to derail the conversation before it went somewhere he didn't want it to.

"Don't be absurd. It was just the most interesting thing going on that morning. And I like to keep my sneaking skills sharp," Talen answered, but the glint of smugness remained and Khalad knew his brother hadn't been deterred in the least. "Anyway, I heard you asking Sparhawk about Berit and Elysoun. I thought that was kind of strange, since you've never taken much interest in anyone else's personal life."

Talen paused, watching for any subtle signs but Khalad kept his eyes on his work and refused to give anything away. After a minute of silence, the thief shrugged and continued talking.

"After that, I couldn't help noticing how much  _you_  watched Berit. How you seem so much more patient with him than with any of the other knights. Patient by your standards, anyway."

Khalad rolled his shoulders in a half-shrug, keeping his eyes and hands and voice steady. "Berit's willing to listen and learn. Unlike some people."

"Yeah. Maybe. But when Sparhawk read the note for Krager, you were by his side, ready to take his ax before any of the rest of us even noticed the lock of hair. You tried to hide your concern, but I could see how worried you were when he volunteered to masquerade as Sparhawk."

Khalad sighed and set aside the piece he was working on before turning to look at his brother. "Just leave it alone, Talen. It doesn't matter."

"Why not? He could make you happy and we've all suffered enough. We deserve to be happy. You could do worse."

"Maybe I could do worse but he couldn't. I'm about as low as he could stoop."

"Oh, not the class thing, again."

"Yes, the class thing. That's part of it."

"It's ridiculous and you know it. You're the only one with class prejudice around here. Look at Kalten and Alean, or Stragen and Melidere. No one cares. Berit respects you."

Khalad pinched his lips together, keeping his face hard when he spoke. "That's not the only problem. In case you missed it, we're both men."

"That's an even more ridiculous excuse. While, technically the Church frowns on it, no one except fanatics make a big deal about it. Half the Pandions are 'bachelors' who have been bunking in with the same partner forever. From what I've seen of the other Orders traveling with us, it's not exclusive to the knights from Elenia, either. The Peloi and Atans each have words for it that translate to shield-brothers. Or shield-sisters, as is sometimes the case with Atans. They believe it makes both partners in the pairing stronger warriors." Talen leaned back, looking sly and amused. "Rumor has it, that was the real reason Sparhawk was so furious with Martel for betraying them."

"You gossip worse than our mothers. And that's not what I meant. I meant, Elysoun."

"What about her? They've been pretty much done since we all went off to fight the trolls. Sparhawk already told you that. I mean, I know she's still available, but he's finally learned how to be a guy about it and let it go with a little fun. That flush of first love has definitely lost its sparkle, though, and he's ready to move on."

"Second love."

"Huh?"

"Elysoun was his second love. Ehlana was his first love."

"So?"

"So, that was what I meant about us both being men. Berit likes women."

Talen stared at him, then shook his head.

"You're always going on about how nobles don't pay attention, but you're just as blind. Berit is fascinated by you. He looks to you first, he watches you the way you watch him." Then Talen leaned even closer and dropped his voice into a whisper. "And among the many, many things I learned on the streets is people can enjoy variety. Kalten slept his way through both the chamber maids  _and_  the stable boys of Eosia."

The young thief looked smug and relaxed when he leaned back, very sure of his arguments.

"So there's no reason why you can't enjoy yourself out there, alone for who knows how long. Take your time and seduce Berit and have a little fun for once."

"Sparhawk."

"What?" Talen blinked in confusion.

"Berit will look like Sparhawk. As far as our enemies are concerned, he will  _be_  Sparhawk. Any hint that he's not who he's supposed to be will endanger us, Ehlana and Alean, not to mention the real Sparhawk. No one's going to believe that, while his wife is in mortal peril, Sparhawk suddenly has an overwhelming desire for his squire that he can't resist."

"Oh."

"Now can I get back to work? We're going to want to get started as soon as the ladies finish rearranging faces."

 

_Aphrael moved out of the stables before she stomped her feet and gave vent to her frustration. The horses couldn't see her, but they could sense her and the last thing anyone wanted was a riled up Faran._

_Damn the practical squire for ruining all of her plans with his logic._

_She'd been amused and proud of Talen for seeing what not even Sparhawk had seen between Khalad and Berit. She had very definite plans for the two of them. And Talen had cleverly laid groundwork for her, to wash away all of the usual objections. It had been fun to watch and, while she liked to prod these things along herself, Talen had done a masterful job. Plus, Sparhawk wouldn't be able to accuse her interfering._

_While she eavesdropped, she'd been working on her plans, thinking of all the ways she'd nudge the two of them onto a path that would make them both happy. Then Khalad had gone and ruined everything by pointing out the flaws._

_There was no way she'd endanger her mother or father, or any of the others, for that matter._

_So she'd have to bide her time. When they were done with Cyrgon and Klael, though, she'd arrange all the happily-ever-afters that she wanted to._


	2. Chapter 2

_Vardenais, Elenia_

Berit found Khalad in the third dockside tavern he tried once he reached Vardenais. The squire didn't even look up from the tankard in front of him when Berit sat in the chair next him and waved for another round.

The silence stretched between them until Berit got a drink in his hand. Then he kicked up his feet on the bench across from him, took a long swallow of his ale and leaned back.

"Sparhawk's a little put out with you, you know," he said conversationally. "Ehlana and Danae want to have a word with you, as well."

Khalad rolled his eyes. "They'll get along fine without me for awhile. We've been back from Daresia for six months and they all keep finding things for me to do to keep me in Elenia. I know they think there's no point in going after Krager, but I have to. I made a promise to my father and myself."

"He might already be dead, you know."

"I know. I'm running out of time, that's why I have to do this now."

"You could have at least left a note. Sparhawk cares about you. You're more than only his squire. He's your friend, not just the interim preceptor."

"He should really drop the 'interim' and accept his fate," Khalad said, dipping his head slightly in silent agreement.

"I don't know about that, I think he just sees himself as holding the position until the person he has picked out is ready to take it from him."

"Who?" Khalad asked.

Berit stared at him, but Khalad's bewilderment seemed genuine. So he took a sip from his tankard and gave a secretive smile. "I think I'll just let that be a surprise."

Khalad shrugged and sipped his ale.

"So, are you here to drag me back to Cimmura, then?"

"Nope. You promised I could keep you company when you started introducing Krager to his insides."

"You want to go to Cammoria with me?"

Berit relaxed, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "Why not? The world has broken out in peace. Not much for a knight to do right now but hang around the chapterhouse and read scripture."

The squire shook his head and waved for another round. "All right. But you're paying for your own passage on the ship."

Berit hadn't been sure the Khalad would let him come along and he didn't let himself think too hard about why it was so important to him to go with the squire. He just knew when it was over, whether Khalad found Krager or not, he was going to need a friend. Berit would move the world to make sure he wasn't alone.

Berit's muscles loosened in relief at the easy acceptance of his companionship, though he tried his best to hide it. From the half smirk Khalad gave him, he didn't succeed.

#

_Khalad glanced over at Berit, close enough to touch. To caress. But they were in this bleak desert for a different reason._

_He laid the forestock of his crossbow on a rock, and took careful aim._

_"Here goes," he said, slowly pressing the lever._

_The crossbow gave a ringing thud, and the burning arrow streaked through the darkness and disappeared into the cave mouth._

_Nothing happened._

_Khalad swore, banging his fist on the gravel._

_The sound was beyond noise when the hill exploded, and a ball of fire hundreds of feet across seethed skyward out of the crater that had suddenly replaced the hill._

_Without thinking, Khalad turned to throw himself on Berit, but the young man wasn't there. He lay yards away, sprawled on the desert floor with rocks pummeling his fragile body._

_Khalad rushed forward through the rain of gravel and crash to his knees beside the broken man. Blood ran from Berit's mouth, but he forced a whisper past cracked lips._

_"You killed me."_

_Blue eyes went dark and pale skin cooled._

_Khalad threw his head back to the heavens and screamed._

_"_ Khalad! Wake up. You're dreaming. Khalad, wake up. Wake up!"

He came back to wakefulness with a start and strong hands held his shoulders while he flailed against the movement of the ship. It took long seconds before his body caught up with reality and he settled into the gentle rocking.

When he stilled, Berit let go of him and straightened up but stayed close, one hand resting inches away, ready to act again.

 "Some dream, huh?" Berit asked softly, concern etched in stark lines on his pale face. 

Khalad's heart still hammered in his chest with the pain and fear of losing Berit and it made it hard not to reach out and touch. To reassure himself _this_  was reality and not the dream.

Instead he licked his lips and shrugged. "Yeah. Some dream. Good now, though. No sense in it keeping us both up. Go back to sleep."

Berit stared at him in silent contemplation, staying close. Then he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, the blue was filled with resolve and the hand next to Khalad curled into a fist.

"I have dreams, too. We all do. You can't live through what we do and not have scars on our souls as well as our bodies."

He took another deep breath and settled himself. "I dream about Zemoch, sometimes. Trapped in the temple—" he broke off and swallowed hard, looking away for a second. "There are just swarms of Zemochs, one after the other. I can't stop them. I can't throw Bevier's ax and Sparhawk fails. They all fail. I can't protect any of them."

"You did protect them." Khalad didn't even think. Just stretched out his hand to cover Berit's tightly clenched fingers. "Because you acted, Sparhawk won. He brought father home to us."

The fist under Khalad's hand uncurled and turned over so they were touching palm to palm. The shock of it ran through him, and despite what he knew he should do, at the moment, he would rather cut off his own arm than move away from the simple touch with Berit.

Berit wasn't finished talking, however.

"I dream about Klael, too. He comes back and we have a giant army to face him, but he's eating whole chunks out of it. Devouring everyone I care about. Ehlana and Sparhawk, Elysoun, Sephrenia and Vanion. You." Berit twisted his head away, gulping slightly for air before continuing. "Until I'm facing him all alone. I want to wake up screaming but I'm so broken, I wake up silent and paralyzed for long, terrifying minutes."

His mouth twisted into a sad half-smile. "Ulath discussed it with me some, on the trip back from Matherion. He said it helps to talk about the dreams. It's hard to admit that weakness, but sharing the burden lessens the weight on our souls. Anytime you want to share, Khalad, I'll listen. And understand."

He might understand too much, if Khalad told him about the dream. He glanced down at their hands, still pressed intimately together. Then again, that might not be so bad.

"I don't protect you. In the dream. In the desert, when I blew up Klael's soldiers. You moved away and I didn't notice. You were too close to the blast and it killed you.  _I_  killed you."

"You have to remember that you did protect me. I'm right here." He shifted his hands, so their fingers slid alongside each other, like puzzle pieces locking together. "I'm not going anywhere."

They stayed that way so long, Khalad drifted back to sleep. This time there were no dreams of burning deserts. Only a soft, comforting peace.

#

It took them less than a day to out find out Krager was no longer in town, once they arrived in Zenga. The townsfolk were eager to tell the sordid tale of the unwelcomed prodigal son.

His initial return had been quiet and secretive. He'd hired a handful of mercenaries to protect him and bought an out of the way manor from a down-on-his-luck baron to secrete himself away.

But as the alcohol had eaten at his mind and body, the paranoia had set in. He believed all those who'd slighted him in his childhood were in league with Sparhawk. He sent his brutes out to slaughter them one by one.

He started seeing Bhelliom behind every rock and every bush, screamed in the night about gods and demons and the fires of hell. When his hired men realized exactly how far gone he was, they dumped him at the door of a nearby monastery and ran off with every cent they managed to shake loose from his scattered brain.

When Khalad and Berit had talked to the monks, however, it was with great frustration that they discovered Krager had been sent off to Borrata. The small monastery was not prepared to deal with Krager's ailment, but their brethren to the west ran an asylum all too familiar with the ravages of alcohol on body and soul.

Berit and Khalad had then backtracked across half the kingdom of Cammoria.

Neither ever mentioned those few moments in the dark of night on the ship during the long, overland trip. Both, in fact, were careful to keep the discussion light and free of any of the heaviness they had shared in the silence of the sea. They touched more than ever now, though neither acknowledged it. A brush of elbows when they walked, a touch of knee or thigh when they sat. An amicable hand on the shoulder that lingered too long. A pat on the back that ended with trailing fingers.

It was a slow build. Something weaving around them, pulling tight. But that was something for the future and, right now, they were on a mission to put the past to rest.

So it remained silent and unspoken, always there yet never acknowledged.

Now, a melancholy monk led them to the cell where Krager was confined. The long hall, lined with doors, echoed with cries, pleas, shouts and whispers. Fear and pain was a miasma that lingered in the very air of the depressing place.

The monk unlocked the door and waved them in.

A thin, narrow cot, devoid of blanket or pillow, sat along one wall. In the far corner, Krager huddled in on himself, trying to draw as far into the shadows as possible.

For a moment, Berit almost didn't recognize the man. Huge chunks of his hair had been ripped out, his body was swollen and distorted and his skin had a sickly yellow cast. He stared at them with unblinking eyes.

"I know you," he finally said, head tipping to the side. "You're not demons? Right?"

"Ah, no," Berit answered, when it looked like all Khalad was going to do was stand and glare.

"Did you bring me wine?"

"No. No wine."

Krager shocked him by bursting into tears. Big, fat drops rolled down his cheeks and heaving sobs wracked his body. Then his hands came up, scratching at his chest and shoulders.

"They itch. The demons itch. They want wine," he snarled and lunged but was drawn up two feet short of the door. It was only then Berit noticed the chain around Krager's waist.

He continued to scream, vile, horrific threats, but his voice gave out after only a couple of minutes. When he could no longer speak, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled away.

Once more in his corner, Krager curled into a ball, his back to the other occupants of the cell. Berit was pretty sure he no longer even knew they were there.

Khalad finally tore his burning eyes away from the husk of the man.

"Is there any chance he'll recover? Now that he's not drinking I mean."

The monk shook his head, despair deepening every line.

"I'm afraid not. Once they get like this, it will only get worse. He'll die in a great deal of confusion and pain."

"Good."

The monk flinched at the satisfied snarl but Khalad ignored him.

"Berit, let's go. We're done here."

The rode away from the asylum in silence. When they could no longer even see the shadow of the building, Khalad finally spoke.

"Melidere was right. This is a much more fitting punishment. Killing him now would be a mercy and he doesn't deserve mercy. I want him to suffer for as many days as he has left." He nudged his horse to a slightly faster pace. "Let's go get a drink."

#

They stopped at the first clean looking tavern they came to and settled in the taproom.

The ale tasted bitter to Khalad, after what he'd just seen. If the way Berit continued to stare at his tankard without drinking was anything to go by, he felt the same.

The silence stretched from soft and companionable to that sticky place that became heavy with unspoken thoughts and questions. Eventually, Berit jumped in to break up the quiet.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

Khalad leaned back in his chair and nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of poetic justice, in a way."

"I know. All the despicable things he did just for money that he spent on all that wine, which is what's slowly killing him. But you came all this way for some kind of definitive ending. Are you sure you're all right with walking away without getting one?"

"I came looking for Krager because he's a slippery son of a bitch. I couldn't stop imagining him chugging all that wine and spending his ill-gotten gains and plotting his next scheme that would throw the world into chaos. I didn't want him to prosper when my father was dead, in part because of him. I didn't want him to come back to haunt us all again. I know now, though, that none of that is happening. He's suffering and will suffer until he dies and he won't hurt anyone again. I can live with that."

He picked up his tankard, but one whiff turned his stomach and he set it back on the table.

"I don't really want to drink right now, do you?"

Berit gave him a rueful smile. "Not really, no."

"Let's go see if the innkeeper has any rooms to spare. We'll get a good night's sleep and head for Cimmura in the morning."

"Good idea."

It took a few minutes to get the innkeepers attention from where he was directing a group of wagoneers, but eventually he stopped long enough for Khalad to ask for rooms.

"Just rented out the second floor to that group there. Got one room up on the third, if you two don't mind bunking in together?"

Khalad tensed and glanced at Berit, whose half-smile was the only answer he needed. Neither of them had moved, but somehow they felt closer together.

The stairs were empty by the time they'd paid the innkeeper and gathered their packs. Halfway up, Khalad took a deep breath and reached out, tangling his fingers with Berit's.

Berit's smile bloomed into a full, smirk and he squeezed hard for a second before easing back. They kept their fingers linked all the way to the room, where Khalad was force to let go in order to fumble with the key. He opened the door and waved Berit ahead of him. The knight brushed against him when he entered, a deliberate move that answered any questions he might have had left.

Before stepping inside, Khalad thought he heard a soft whisper of music. He paused to look around, but nothing was out of place. With a shrug, he followed Berit in and closed the door firmly behind him.

 

_If there had been anyone else on the third floor, they would have been startled to see a dark haired little girl with a set of rude goatherd's pipe appear at the end of the hallway._

_She beamed at the closed door, pumped her fist in celebration and leaped into a pirouette of pure joy, disappearing just as she completed the turn._


End file.
